Where Words Fail, Music Beginshttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com
An independent blog about my personal opinions on music of all genres.Fri, 09 Mar 2018 17:46:56 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngWhere Words Fail, Music Beginshttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com
A Departurehttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/09/a-departure/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/09/a-departure/#respondFri, 09 Mar 2018 17:30:21 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=868Just under two years ago now, I started up a regular, weekly schedule for writing in this blog, not having any real idea of where it was headed. I can’t really say that it developed a particular direction over these past couple of years, either, but it certainly has given me a great deal of enjoyment, establishing a place for me to write about one of my favorite things in the world as well as more critically examine all of my music.

This is the last post I plan to make here for the moment, however. That’s not a guarantee by any means, and I hope I do come back to it one day, but as other things in my life have picked up that take precedent, I want to officially set this aside to focus on other endeavors. I’d rather do that than see the quality of my work deteriorate, or wordlessly have it fall by the wayside; I prefer to commit all the way and bow out when I can’t invest that same effort anymore.

For all of you who have read my posts to any extent, and especially those who have taken the time to speak to me in the comments, I’m so appreciative of you taking the time to read my musical ramblings. I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed them, and possibly even found some new music through them or at least seen a different side of something you already loved.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/09/a-departure/feed/0jadams270Echoshttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/02/echos/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/02/echos/#respondFri, 02 Mar 2018 18:47:49 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=863Joshua Hyslop has been forging a name for himself over the past few years, touring with folk artist Passenger and opening for “A Thousand Miles” singer Vanessa Carlton. With the passage of time and the release of two studio albums, multiple EPs, and a handful of stand-alone singles, he’s established quite clearly that he’s far more than just an opening act; a stripped-down folk artist with stories to tell and music to share, Hyslop’s music is full of emotional depth and honesty, tales of woe and compassion, inner conflict and inner peace.

Last Friday marked the release of his third studio album, Echos, which exists as further proof that Hyslop stands in a league of his own. An album about empathy, the singer-songwriter has said, Echos takes stories from the people in his life and translates them into a heartfelt, 11-track album that ranges from the string-laden “Say It Again,” which serves as a powerful start to the album, to songs like “This Is How It Goes,” a mournful song about the struggle of addiction, or the bright and hopeful “What’s to Come.”

Image courtesy of Joshua Hyslop’s page at pledgemusic.com

It’s in this song that the album’s title arises, Hyslop crooning in its second verse, “All the lines I’ve made across my face are echos of my life.” The words are a beautiful and effective contextualization of the album’s tales, all serving as their own echos of the life to which they belong.

Instrumentally, Echos is relatively standard fare for Hyslop; the music is largely acoustic, centered around guitar, banjo, and orchestral strings. However, songs like “Long Way Down” and “Into the Dark” include harmonica as a poignant and unexpected accent. It’s not necessarily revolutionary, but I can’t peg that on Echos as a criticism; there’s no need to reinvent the wheel when his homey, gentle folk sound is so emotionally compelling and suits him so well.

Furthermore, the fact that it doesn’t change his style radically doesn’t keep the album from being a musical step forward and its own, self-contained work. As gorgeous as his previous releases have been, Echos embodies a common theme in a way neither of his two previous albums did, the intended kindness and compassion radiating from his tender vocals and singing strings in all its songs, the hopeful and hopeless alike. Tied together with its enchanting album artwork by Alie O’Connor, Echos has a soothing aesthetic that’s simply irresistible, and continues to commend Hyslop’s wonderful musical talents.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/03/02/echos/feed/0largejadams270largeRoad to Nowherehttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/23/road-to-nowhere/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/23/road-to-nowhere/#respondFri, 23 Feb 2018 17:09:40 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=861A recent happenstance led me to stumble upon Find Me, a collaborative project between singer Robbie LaBlanc and producer Daniel Flores. The two have converged, with Flores taking on keyboards and drums, alongside Sören Kronqvist (keyboards) and Philip Lindstrand (guitar and bass) to form a compelling and energetic melodic rock band. LaBlanc’s powerfully moving vocals are akin to that of an ‘80s rock star, but the project as a whole is an effective blend of engaging guitar riffs, catchy rhythms, and emotional execution.

Though their debut album Wings of Love is full of gems, one of its many highlights is its opening track, “Road to Nowhere.” It comes from a rumbling, atmospheric start to reach a point of aggressive, guitar-laden resolve in a story of moving forward and letting go of someone. The song possesses a certain grim determination, a struggle against internal hesitation and the certainty of the correct path with a musical drive behind it all.

From its intriguing intro to its musical build throughout, perfectly accented with LaBlanc’s vocals, “Road to Nowhere” is simply an incredibly enjoyable song that’s hard not to rock along with. It’s only the very beginning of what Wings of Love has to offer, but it’s a perfect introduction to it all, and definitely worth checking out.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/23/road-to-nowhere/feed/0jadams270To Begin Againhttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/16/to-begin-again/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/16/to-begin-again/#respondFri, 16 Feb 2018 20:41:52 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=858As a passionate fan of Imogen Heap’s music, her debut album, I Megaphone, has always been very compelling to me. Known primarily for music that’s elegant and atmospheric, overflowing with screaming emotion but presented through gentle, breathy vocals, her raw and unfiltered beginnings as a 20-year-old artist with a slight Alanis Morissettte vibe come as a stark contrast. Within it are hints of the artist as she’s come to be in the two decades since its release, but it’s intriguing to see a very different side of her.

One of its most interesting offerings is “Useless,” which shows the beginnings of the British singer-songwriter’s creativity while still dwelling within I Megaphone’s world of alternative rock. Backed by samplings from “Liquid Days” by Philip Glass, it starts with eerie, overlapping whispers of “useless.” In its verses, with its calming piano, it could almost be an acoustic rendition of a modern song with slightly deeper vocals, but building drums lead into a booming, guitar-filled chorus filled with an aggressive energy.

As a whole, the song is a far cry from her later work, both atmospherically and thematically. Rather than feel dreamlike, introspective, and poetic, “Useless” is as blunt as its title; it makes no attempt to hide behind clever words as it proclaims, “I feel so useless.” The raw emotion comes out even stronger in its bridge, which slows to a melodic halt and seeks solace and hope over harsh screams of “anger,” “hatred,” and similar words of frustration.

The composition displays a degree of—for lack of a better word—angst that is simply not present or even hinted at within Heap’s career henceforth. And that’s neither a bad thing for “Useless” nor for her later work, but simply a natural display of progression and maturity. Still, given her immense talent and the high heights to which she’s risen, it’s incredibly fun to revisit where she started and hear the roots of her creativity, and that makes “Useless”—and the whole of I Megaphone—worth your listen, if you’ve not been fortunate enough to experience its unique world yet.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/16/to-begin-again/feed/0jadams270Post Traumatichttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/09/post-traumatic/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/09/post-traumatic/#respondFri, 09 Feb 2018 17:27:00 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=855The music industry was thrown into mourning last year after the suicide of Chester Bennington, lead singer of Linkin Park. While the tragic loss has of course affected fans worldwide, it’s impossible to imagine how hard it’s been for his loved ones. But two weeks ago, bandmate Mike Shinoda released Post Traumatic EP, a fittingly titled three-song release that delves into these rough and unfiltered feelings regarding the loss of his friend. Clocking in at ten minutes, it’s a short listen, but its open-hearted depth gives it intensity and substance that establishes it as a must-listen, especially for those who have undergone their own grief over the loss.

Image courtesy mikeshinoda.com

“Place To Start” opens up the EP on a melodic, introspective note with deep synthesizer the sole backing to Shinoda’s soft vocals, conveying the mellow side of grief. Its lyrics express feeling adrift and unsure where to go, powerfully combining with the song’s tone to truly embody the hopelessness that such pain induces, but what speaks loudest is the empty space of the song and its brief length (just over two minutes), conveying how hard it is to put any of into words. To top off the haunting track, it concludes with a handful of voicemails from friends to Shinoda, giving a particularly solemn gravity to the song.

Things pick up in pace with “Over Again”, but lyrically the second track delves even further into Shinoda’s heartbreak. Adopting his familiar rapping, utilized within both Linkin Park and his side project Fort Minor, he describes the progression after the immediate loss, discussing the concert Linkin Park put on as a tribute to their bandmate and how difficult it was to get back onstage. The maelstrom of emotions he experienced is tangible in the timbre of his voice and the frustration of the lyrics, with the chorus working to the core of his struggles as it discusses the difficult reality wherein loss doesn’t happen just once, but rather seems to keep striking as time progresses.

Closing with its most energetic track, “Watching As I Fall” consists of aggressive beats and guitar, an electronic loop backing it all throughout. This final track takes more of a look outward, examining his appearance to the rest of the world as the death of his friend takes its toll on him and discussing his internal struggle in pretending to be okay with it. It’s a far cry from closure or being okay about his loss—if such things are even possible—but as it closes with the line, “But maybe I’m just falling to get somewhere they won’t,” it gives a sense of progression from the helplessness of “Place To Start.”

Even for an EP, Post Traumatic is certainly on the shorter side, but its musical portrayal of such raw emotion gives it an impact larger than some studio albums can achieve. Linkin Park fans in particular will surely find the experience to be emotional and possibly cathartic, but music lovers of all kinds and those who have known loss in their own lives will be moved by this confessional EP.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/09/post-traumatic/feed/0image01jadams270image01I Could Love Youhttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/02/i-could-love-you/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/02/i-could-love-you/#respondFri, 02 Feb 2018 17:46:31 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=853I was surprised and elated a few weeks ago to find an email in my inbox informing me that Summer Underground had released a new song. The indie-pop duo, consisting of Grant Carey and Chrissy Sandman, found its way into my heart last year and only seems to root itself more firmly in there over time. And really, what’s more exciting than to find that you suddenly have a new song from a favorite artist?

Unsurprisingly, the upbeat and poppy “I Could Love You” has quickly worked its way into my heart as well. Like much of More Than A Friend, Less Than A Lover—the album from which “I Could Love You” is a B-side—it’s a song about romantic tension and almost love; it edges toward the possibility of romantic fulfillment and potential chemistry, declaring, “I don’t know about you / But I feel an energy.”

With a steady beat backing the band’s signature soft piano, and peppered, lively synths that add an electronic twist, the song has an utterly carefree feeling that evokes an image of the early stages of falling in love, of two people who are destined to come together soon and are just waiting for it to happen. Carey provides the primary vocals, while Sandman supplies harmonies in key places to amplify the emotion and emphasize that two people are falling in love together, bringing the story to life.

It’s not a song of cryptic lyrics and complex chord progressions, but that’s where its value lies; “I Could Love You” is light and fun, full of anticipation, and overall a pleasant listening experience. Summer Underground yet again proves their aptitude for writing beautiful, unassuming songs about life, adding another great song to their catalog. Give it a listen on their bandcamp page.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/02/02/i-could-love-you/feed/0jadams270MANIAhttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/mania/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/mania/#respondFri, 26 Jan 2018 17:54:42 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=850It’s an inevitable fact of life for bands who stick around for long enough—for some, even just long enough to release a sophomore album—that controversy is going to arise from the musical direction they’ve chosen. Maybe it will be that they stick to what works and as a result are seen as “generic,” criticized for music that sounds the same, and cited as an example of lacking creativity. Or perhaps they branch out to a new sound, and they’re seen as selling out or just deviating too far from the sound that people expect from them.

This is a phenomenon to which Fall Out Boy has been subject for a while now, but it seems most relevant after the release of their seventh LP, MANIA. The album dropped last Friday, after its original September release date was postponed so the band could give it some more work, and the Chicago-based band has come a long way since their roots on 2003’s Take This To Your Grave, the electronic-infused arena pop of today a far cry from the pop-punk of old.

Image courtesy falloutboy.com

Whether or not their new sound appeals to you, it’s hard to accuse the band of being inauthentic; MANIA is undeniably different, but it still has a fundamental Fall Out Boy atmosphere to it, with biting one-liners and the same energetic determination that follows their music regardless of genre.

With that said, you can’t go into MANIA expecting their music from the mid-2000s, and you can’t even expect a simple sequel to their last full album, 2015’s American Beauty/American Psycho. That much was made clear with lead single “Young and Menace,” its unexpected Britney Spears reference and aggressive pitch distortion instantly catching fans off-guard.

For any who were strongly deterred by “Young and Menace,” the good news is that it’s the MANIA track that most strays from the band’s comfort zone. “Sunshine Riptide,” a reggae-inspired song featuring Burna Boy, is a notable shift, and the slight gospel elements of religious metaphor duo “Church” and “Heaven’s Gate” adds a twist as well, but they all make for an interesting and successful experiment, particularly with the ever-impressive vocals of lead singer Patrick Stump. The album as a whole does feel significantly more pop than even their last release, but even “Young and Menace,” once you acclimate to its disorienting breakdown, still feels like the band, with its lyrics about rediscovering your passion and your rebelliousness.

Longtime fans will probably find themselves most comfortable with the likes of “The Last Of The Real Ones” and “Wilson (Expensive Mistakes),” however, the former being the most guitar-driven track on the album and the latter a conflicted song about regrets that contains some of the album’s most notable lyrics, from the cutting “There’s nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you” to the anthemically emo “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color” (a quote from the 1991 The Addams Family movie). Meanwhile, the aggressive motivation of songs like “Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” and “Champion” may feel slightly more surface-level with catchy beats and choruses repeating words of empowerment, but both contain their share of biting one-liners in the verses, and it’s not as if catchy, radio-friendly hits are foreign to the band; songs like this may take a few listens to appreciate in their own right, but they’re enjoyable and effective pieces of the album.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that your experience with the album may vary depending on the means through which you listen to it, as there are two different track listings. Back in November, the band announced a track listing, and that’s the one you’ll see on digital services like iTunes, Spotify, and Amazon Music; “Young and Menace” opens on this listing, leading into “Champion.” However, physical releases see a drastically different construction despite having the same ten tracks; according to lyricist and bassist Pete Wentz, the physical release feature the “correct” order, and the digital one is a mistake. (You can view both track lists on Wikipedia.)

Comparing the two track listings, the band’s final choice—the physical listing—comes out feeling significantly superior. The surreal world of “Young and Menace” works far better as a building penultimate track than as a relatively low-energy start. Overall, the physical order simply results in a far more even album experience; if you’re listening digitally, I recommend that you shift the tracks around, and if you gave up on the album after a disappointed listen to the digital order, I implore you to give it another go with the alternate arrangement.

But mercifully, one constant on both track listings is the placement of album closer “Bishops Knife Trick,” a song that could belong nowhere else. As someone who particularly revels in a perfectly executed ending to an album, one frustration I’ve always had with Fall Out Boy despite my love for their music is that their closing tracks tend to be hit-or-miss on truly embodying that position, but “Bishops Knife Trick” pulls it off with aplomb. From its atmospheric, echoing guitar to its conflicted introspect, among its determined declaration that “These are the last blues we’re ever gonna have” and Stump’s impressive vocals in the final chorus, it’s the perfect way to close off an album of mixed emotions and new musical ground.

While fans’ disappointed or confused reactions to MANIA’s divergences are more than understandable—on my first listen, I had no idea how to feel about the album—it would be unfair to dismiss their new direction. MANIA is different, but it’s still creative and full of passion, with a great deal to offer if you give it the chance. If you’re still out there waiting for a musical sequel to Take This To Your Grave, it’s probably past time to pack it in; but if you’re just in the pursuit of good music of any kind, MANIA stands as a compelling step into a new era for the band.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/mania/feed/0Digital1_grandejadams270Digital1_grandeOrganized Chaoshttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/19/organized-chaos/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/19/organized-chaos/#respondFri, 19 Jan 2018 18:00:38 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=847As one might gather from the fact that I have a music blog like this that I keep up with regularly, I am incredibly devoted in my love of music, and it manifests itself in many different ways. One of those is my dedication to constantly broadening my horizons while also looking to consume and learn as much as I can about music and artists that I already love, but it also converges with my love of organization (which sounds a lot nerdier written out than it did in my head).

Of course, with over 14,000 songs, a physical CD collection that probably numbers somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 at this point, and a smaller-but-growing collection of albums on vinyl, it amounts more to organized chaos than true order. Nonetheless, I’m committed to alphabetizing my physical collection and building on the meticulous organizational system for my digital library that’s been building for over a decade now.

Though the agony of shuffling hundreds of CDs around every time I get something by an artist whose name is in the first half of the alphabet is frustrating, my digital library is a more significant onus because of how much I enjoy seeing accurate data about a myriad of aspects of my music. For example, I try my best to maintain accurate play counts for my songs, always putting on sleep timers if I’m going to fall asleep to music and going as far as to manually fix play counts if I fail to do so, and manually updating them to reflect when I listen to songs and albums on CD or vinyl. I also have more playlists than I care to try and count; this is partially because of the “personal music charts” I’ve kept up with for the better part of the past seven years, reflecting what I’m listening to on a weekly basis (with varying degrees of detail), and partially because I create playlists for a variety of different moods and often end up creating new ones for the same moods down the road because I like to preserve the original playlist as it is so I can see what I listened to at X point in my life.

Despite the time required to maintain it, or worse the stress involved when technology causes an issue and I have to try and fix it, it’s absolutely worth it to me to be able to see my listening trends play out and my favorite songs clearly come out in the lead insofar as plays are concerned (although I don’t think play count is a strict, linear indicator of enjoyment), even if it has inherent limits, like an underrepresentation of arguably some of my most beloved music that I listened to for years solely on cassettes and CDs, before the days of MP3s.

But I find myself particularly interested in how others interact with their music and how meticulous (or not) others are compared to me; do you have a similar interest in seeing clear portrayals of your musical trends? Does your passion manifest itself in different ways? Are you more carefree about it, just listening to music and not concerned about the rest? Let me know in the comments!

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/19/organized-chaos/feed/0jadams270Coming Back For Morehttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/12/coming-back-for-more/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/12/coming-back-for-more/#respondFri, 12 Jan 2018 17:32:53 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=845There’s something about “Right On Back To You,” a song by Keith Urban from his 2010 album Get Closer, that’s always stuck with me since I first got the album, shortly after its release. Clocking in at close to 5 minutes, the soft country-pop melody has such a soothing and reassuring quality to it that still keeps me coming back to listen to it again and again on repeat all these years later.

It fades in with the sound of thunder booming and rain striking the pavement, setting the mood both for its relaxed nature and the actual setting, the opening line stating, “The rain’s coming down hard tonight / I pulled the car over now I’m sitting alone on the roadside.” Like the rest of Get Closer, “Right On Back To You” is a story about love, with a happy ending; it follows on a journey of self-reflection in a car, as Urban sings about a tendency to run out of fear of your own strong feelings.

But the light atmosphere reflects the song’s ultimate conclusion. Soft acoustic guitar fills the early, reflective part of the song, but in its choruses, onto the bridge, and beyond, electric guitar accompanies striking drum rhythms as Urban professes the inevitability of his return to his lover. In the song’s final lines, he confesses, “I’m gonna come on back, come on back to you / ‘Cause I can’t live without you / I can’t breathe without you / Yeah and I’m nothing, nothing without you.” While quite dramatic, the sheer emotion with which Urban delivers the revelation packs a powerful punch and clearly conveys his feelings as the song fades out into a guitar solo.

By many counts, “Right On Back To You” is not an atypical love song, but its willingness to own up to faults and confront its feelings among gentle background music that feels like a romantic happy ending sells it so perfectly, and ironically enough, always keeps me coming right on back to it.

]]>https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/12/coming-back-for-more/feed/0jadams270Musical Journeyshttps://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/05/musical-journeys/
https://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/2018/01/05/musical-journeys/#respondFri, 05 Jan 2018 17:57:09 +0000http://wherewordsfailmusicbegins.wordpress.com/?p=843An underappreciated piece of the concert experience is the journey, in those cases where you need to go some distance to get there. It can be a time to get excited, listening to the artist’s music on the way, or a space in which to discover an amplified love for that music in the post-concert state. But when you go with others, it tends to be a really special experience.

One of my friends with whom I frequently attended concerts in college would play her music during the car rides, but on the way back, she’d often play music I wasn’t familiar with to give me a sampling and potentially get me into it (and it usually succeeded). One such introduction was to The Format—the band Nate Ruess was in before he became lead singer of fun.—and I can’t listen to their song “If Work Permits,” the closing track from their second and final album Dog Problems, without thinking of those late night drives.

In some ways, it’s a perfect night driving song; fading in with the faint sound of chirping crickets, it establishes itself initially as a ukelele-driven, gentle ballad, softening to lullaby levels at the first chorus as the background music cuts out in favor of only singular, spread-out piano notes.

But halfway through the song, it takes a sharp turn; as Ruess proclaims, “I’m doing all right,” the ballad turns into an energetic rock song. The previously cautious vocals become certain, turning aggressive and bordering on screaming at times.

It’s a particularly compelling song because of its structure; in sheer lyric stanzas, it has a not-atypical setup of three verses, two choruses, and an outro, but the stark divide down the center gives it two drastically different feelings that seem to highlight a progression of understanding. The first segment feels wistful in its thoughts about a past relationship, but the second half is about moving forward in confidence. By far, some of its most powerful lyrics come in that determined second half as it discusses a misperception of love based on witnessed violence, then declares, “I’m here to tell you / Love just ain’t some blood on the receiver / Love is speaking in code / It’s an inside joke / Love is coming home.”

Nostalgia is a part of my love for “If Work Permits,” but ultimately not the driving force; if I heard it for the first time today, I don’t doubt I’d fall in love all over again. It’s a song about inner-conflict and uncertainty that becomes a drive to move forward among self-understanding and optimism, and its two halves accompany that portrayal musically as well. If you haven’t yet heard it, I strongly urge you to change that.